


second son, first meeting

by heartofstanding



Series: Edward the Black Prince and Richard II [1]
Category: 14th Century CE RPF
Genre: Babies, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Fluff, Gen, the Black Prince was a good dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-27 23:12:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19799722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartofstanding/pseuds/heartofstanding
Summary: The Black Prince meets his second son.





	second son, first meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMalhamBird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMalhamBird/gifts).



> For the "fic you you wish I'd write" meme, TheMalhamBird sent me the image of The Black Prince holding Richard II as a baby and it was way too cute not to write.

**Bordeaux, 6 January 1367**

Edward’s head falls against the back of his chair and he stares up at the ceiling. He knows what scenes are painted between the carved beams but he cannot quite register them now. He has prayed, tried to be a gracious host to his kingly guests and played with his son Ned. Now, it is all he can do to confine himself to this small room, in this anxious temper, and hope that when he is disturbed, it is by good news.

He has Joan’s letter in his hands, the parchment crumpled and seal unbroken. _Only open it if – well, you know,_ she said when she gave to him. He hadn’t wanted to take it – a childish impulse, the desire to block out the horror of what could be by ignorance and denial. But that is not an effective strategy – if he had closed his eyes at Crécy he would have been killed. He _nearly_ had been, regardless. There is a thin scar, stretched across his scalp, to prove it.

Joan has given birth before. Six times. He whispers her children’s names ( _Thomas, John, Jeannette, Maud, Edmund, Ned_ ) and counts them off on his fingers, finishing with a short prayer for Edmund’s soul. Joan laughed at him, just before Ned was born, telling him he was worrying over nothing. But it has been hard, these past months. Neither of them want him to campaign for Pedro of Castile, but his father _ordered_ him. And Joan was upset about it this morning, the most distressed she’s been during this pregnancy, when the pains came upon her, and she was so pale, clutching at her belly and swearing him not to leave her.

He looks at the note in his hand again and decides if he has to open it, he will never speak to his father again. He nearly puts it down, but it feels wrong to let it go.

He _cannot_ do this. Cannot just sit idly and wait. Pedro told him to take his worry out on the quintain and Edward nearly put his fist through Pedro’s face. It wouldn’t have made him any less anxious but it would have been satisfying. It still would. He forces himself to his feet and paces the room, going faster and faster with each circuit. Soon, he’s running. When he stops he’s dizzy, bending over to brace his hands on his knees and suck in deep breaths.

If it was proper, he would be with Joan, would be holding her hand, letting her tear her nails into his skin and curse him in retribution for getting her with child.

The door opens and Edward straightens, folding the letter between his hands. The attendant that looks in on him is half-terrified, but he bows and speaks good news. Her grace the Princess has delivered a baby boy and is well.

*

Joan is pale and tired but she is still the most beautiful creature he has ever seen; the child is tucked in her arms, her radiant hair loose around her shoulders. He runs to her side, the letter slipping from his fingers. He kisses her, then turns his attention to the baby.

‘Is this…’

Joan nods. ‘They baptised him John,’ she says. ‘I tried to tell them, Richard, he’s going to be called _Richard._ ’

Edward looks at her in alarm and his hand lays over hers where she holds the baby. John. The favourite name of midwives fearing the child won’t live to see a priest and be baptised. ‘But he’s alright?’

‘The cord was wrapped around his neck,’ she says, eyes downcast. ‘But he seems – we just have to watch him closely.’

‘When he’s christened properly,’ he says, ‘we’ll make sure he’s given the right name.’

Joan nods. ‘Yes. Our little Dickon.’

Edward leans forward to peer at the baby, the fine thatch of golden hair over the round pink face. He seems so small, bound in swaddling cloths. He runs his finger down Richard’s beautiful face, the blue eyes opening to stare at him avidly. He smiles and finds tears running down his cheeks.

‘He’s beautiful,’ he tells her. ‘And tiny.’

‘He is,’ she says.

‘I think I could hold him in one hand.’

She laughs, this wild, beautiful sound, and leans down to kiss the baby’s forehead. ‘I think so too. Do you want to try?’

He nods, dumbstruck, and holds out his hand, letting her carefully settle Richard into it, and he fits, perfectly, head cradled by Edward’s fingers, body in his palm and wrist, his legs slipping down either side of Edward’s forearm.

‘Careful,’ Joan says. ‘If you walk around with him like that, they’ll think you’re holding a loaf of bread.’

He snorts and cradles Richard close to him, using both arms. ‘Our son, a loaf of bread? We would never live down the scandal.’

Joan laughs again, then leans forward, tucking the blankets around Richard again.

‘Ned’s asleep,’ he says. ‘But he was excited about Dickon, kept asking me, _when’s Dickon going to be here, will Dickon like me, will he play with me?_ Nearly drove me mad. Well, madder than I already was.’

He shakes his head and brings his attention back to Richard, the tiny, perfect human that is his second son. He cradles Richard close to his chest and kisses his forehead. Joan rests her hand on his cheek, thumbing away his tears.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Historical Notes**  
>  There are various stories about Richard II’s birth that may or may not be true. Amongst them is the idea that on the day of his birth (the Feast of the Epiphany, 6 January 1367), his father, Edward the Black Prince, was hosting three kings although it is not clear who these three kings were – one of them was definitely Pedro (or Peter) of Castile, known as Pedro the Cruel. Another story was that Joan, distressed at the Prince’s leaving, went into labour early and suddenly. Possibly connected to that story is another about Richard being a small baby and was initially baptised ‘John’ by the midwives because he was not expected to survive the birth. 
> 
> The campaign mentioned here is the Black Prince’s campaign in Castile to support Pedro’s attempts to reclaim his throne from Henry of Trastámara. It was largely a pyrrhic victory for Edward – although Pedro was victorious, he didn’t fulfil his promises and the English troops suffered heavily from dysentery and sickness. The lengthy, debilitating illness that claimed Edward’s life is usually said to have begun in Castile – though this cannot have been dysentery as it would be impossible to survive it for nine years. Michael Jones suggests that Edward was not keen on the campaign but his father, Edward III, insisted on it, and he may have seen his actions in supporting it as the sin he needed to atone for. 
> 
> Joan gave birth to seven children. With her first husband, Thomas Holland, there were Thomas, John, Joan (rendered here as Jeanette), Maud, and Edmund (who did not live long). Her first son with Edward was Edward (here Ned) of Angoulême, who died in 1371.
> 
> Books that were useful:  
> Anthony Goodman, _Joan the Fair Maid of Kent: A Fourteenth Century Princess and her World_ (Boydell Press, 2017)  
> Michael Jones, _The Black Prince_ (Head of Zeus, 2017)  
> Penny Lawne, _Joan of Kent: The First Princess of Wales_ (Amberley, 2015)  
> Kathryn Warner, _Richard II: A True King's Fall_ (Amberley, 2018)


End file.
